


Roger, 1970

by TheSchubita



Series: It Comes To You As To Us All [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Froger-centric, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, froger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSchubita/pseuds/TheSchubita
Summary: Just because you live in a world where everyone is fated for someone, doesn't mean happiness will be handed to you on a silver platter.Or the one where Brian believes in soulmates, Roger doesn't, Freddie just wants to belong, and only John even remotely has his shit together.."Must be hard being so impatient," Freddie said with a suggestive grin. Roger matched it equally."Real hard," he replied. Freddie cackled.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Series: It Comes To You As To Us All [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601965
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	Roger, 1970

**Author's Note:**

> Part III of this Baby :) Thank you all for the comments on the first two!
> 
> Despite the suggestive summary, no sexy-times. D:
> 
> Okay, so I had this lying around for over a year and it's part of a much bigger, unfinished work. I'll be posting the finished parts eventually, but in a non-chronological order as a series. 
> 
> This is a soulmate!AU, where everyone has soulmarks, and everyone has different 'kinds' of soulmarks - a world with endless possibilities. This deals with everyone's views of soulmates, and some are quite different than others, which leads to glorious angst, what I am best at at writing, lmao.
> 
> These are not beta'ed, and keep in mind written from October 2018 - February 2019, and since I'm not a native English speaker/writer, I'm sure there are some errors. However, I decided to post these while trying to overcome my writer's block for Sleepless Nights, hoping that rereading them might spark inspiration anew. I do still love this fandom and everyone contributing to it so dedicatedly, but I am a bit of a fickle writer, so I'm sorry you guys T_T. However, I'm not doing a /new/ project per se, as this was all written before Sleepless Nights, so to those still wanting me to update that one; don't worry ☺.
> 
> If there are things you feel I should tag but didn't think of, please tell me!

Roger was bored to tears. Well, he was _supposed_ to review his paper he’d written for his microbiology class, or rather, _tried_ to write.

Fun times.

He’d been reading the same sentence over and over for at least twenty minutes now, before he decided to give up. He stretched, the kinks in his back smoothing out from the beat old sofa that they’d found for free on the sidewalk. Roger was pretty sure it had either fleas or lice or both, but couldn’t prove anything.

His eyes strayed from the paper again, over to Freddie, lying on his stomach on their dirty, old carpet. He’d been in a strange mood all day; not melancholic, per se, but barely aware of his surroundings, lost somewhere in his mind. Roger watched him scribble something before he crossed it out aggressively.

"You good, Freddie?" He finally asked.

"Hmm?" Freddie hummed distractedly, before looking up at Roger in a way that implied he hadn’t been aware Roger had been sitting next to him for the better part of an hour. Roger knew he shouldn’t feel offended. "Oh, yes, fine, dear," Freddie dismissed.

"You sure? Because I feel like I’m going mad being cooped up here all day." Freddie chuckled.

"You’ve barely been sitting here for an hour, Rog," he said. So he _had_ noticed, Roger thought. "Don’t you have a paper to finish that’s like, half your grade?"

"I’m giving up," he said, tossing the papers somewhere behind him. Freddie looked distinctively amused by his dramatics. "I’d rather die poor and alone than reading another line about bioremediation ever again."

"Now, dear, don’t exaggerate," Freddie teased.

"’m not, though," Roger sighed. "I don’t think I’m cut out to be an academic."

"I could’ve told you that when we first met, Roger dear," Freddie grinned. Roger threw a pillow at him, missing by a mile.

"The dullness of it all is killing me," Roger whined. "It’s like, get up, eat, learn, despair, eat, learn, despair again, sleep, rinse and repeat." Freddie was hiding a smile behind his hand.

"Oh, love, once we’ve all reached rock star status, it will all be forgotten, I promise you." Roger knew Freddie was indulging him because he was in those rare contemplative moods where almost nothing could rouse him for a good row. Roger nudged at Freddie’s bum with his foot.

" _When_ , though?" He said.

"Must be hard being so impatient," Freddie said with a suggestive grin. Roger matched it equally.

" _Real_ hard," he replied. Freddie cackled.

"Well, why don’t you roll down here and tell your woes to dear ol’ unlce Fred?" Roger did just that, rolling over until he tumbled down the flea-infested sofa, rolling on the ground until he was lying half on top of Freddie.

"You know, for a skinny guy like yourself you’re quite heavy," Freddie said, wriggling until he was more comfortable under half of Roger’s weight.

"Are you telling me I’m fat?" Freddie groaned.

"You’re the prettiest guy this side of London, dear. Don’t go fishing for compliments." Roger curled an arm over Freddie’s back, shifting his head until it was resting on Freddie’s shoulder.

"What’re you working on?" Freddie hummed again, twirling his pen around his fingers.

"An idea for a song – maybe." Roger squinted down at the paper, but between Freddie’s chicken scratch and his poor eyesight, he couldn’t quite make out the words. Freddie, noticing him craning his neck, pushed his shoulder gently upwards, jostling Roger’s head. "Hush, I’m not done yet," he reprimanded. Roger huffed, but laid his head back down, so his breath must’ve tickled Freddie’s neck. Freddie shook his head, grabbing the pillow Roger had tossed earlier, pulling it closer, before he shifted his shoulder until Roger slid down, landing his head on the pillow. He made a soft protesting noise.

"Fred –"

"You’re exhausted, and frankly, you still reek of whiskey and boob sweat," Freddie said. "When did you get in, anyways?"

"What are you, my mother?" Roger frowned. "I got home around seven." Freddie sighed. " _What_ ," Roger bit out.

"You could do with a few more hours of sleep."

"Again, you’re not –"

"- Your mother, yadda yadda yadda," Freddie moved on of his hand in a derisive manner. "Still, you do know we’re all here for whatever you need, right?"

"Well, I _need_ to bury myself in some girls, every once in a while, so unless you’ve been hiding something, Bulsara –"

"As if you’d ever get so lucky," Freddie replied automatically. He looked at Roger with a strange look that made Roger squirm. "Just sleep it off," Freddie said after a moment, patting Roger’s cheek softly. "And take a shower before Brian gets home."

"Yes, _mother_ ," Roger snarked, eyes already falling closed.

"If you don’t smell like a distillery, and ask very nicely, Brian might help you with your paper," Freddie said. Roger beamed, but his eyes remained closed.

"If it wasn’t so comfortable, I’d genuinely kiss you, Fred," he mumbled. He drifted off to Freddie’s gentle voice humming a new melody.

.

After a much-needed nap, he woke up with a dry throat and a nasty itch somewhere near his ankle. They needed to burn their sofa, Roger decided. Freddie was nowhere in sight, but he could hear him puttering around in the kitchen. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, absentmindedly scratching at his ankle.

"Roger," Freddie said suddenly, poking his head out of the kitchen. "Do you happen to know how to boil an egg?" Roger blinked at him.

"Err," he said, still scratching at his ankle and _what kind of fleas did they fucking have_ , _anyway_. " ‘suppose it has to do with boiling water, mate."

"Aren’t you a regular Einstein," Freddie said, before his eyes wandered to his frantic scratching. "Roger, stop aggravating the fleas –"

"It fucking _itches_ –" Roger whined, pulling down his sock. A second later, he pulled it up again, eyes wide. Freddie took a couple of steps forward, face slack with shock.

"Roger, is that –"

"No," he said, getting up quickly. Freddie moved quickly in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. Roger’s heart was beating so wildly he felt sick from the rhythm.

"Roger, I’m not fucking blind –" Freddie said, grabbing his wrist. Roger yanked it back, moving away from Freddie.

"It’s _nothing_ , Fred," Roger said forcefully. It wasn’t, it couldn’t be, not _again_ –

Freddie looked at him with soulful eyes, and Roger felt so damn exposed, but, even if it was Freddie, he couldn’t accept – _that_ – from anyone.

"Rogie –" Freddie said softly.

"Fred, calm down, it's _nothing_ ," he emphasized. "If anything, it's a fucking flea colony making themselves at home in my sweet flesh," Roger tried to lighten the mood. Freddie just continued to look at him searchingly. Roger thought he looked almost sad. He swallowed, but forced to look Freddie in the eyes.

"If - if you're sure," Freddie said haltingly after a long moment. "Just, come talk to me or John, or Brian, if something’s going on." Roger wanted to cry at the words, but he forced a grin on his face.

"I'm good, but thank you," he said as firmly as he could manage. Freddie looked like he didn't believe him for even one second, but Roger could see the exact moment he decided to let it go.

"Alright. I'll go back to my eggs then," Freddie said, voice wavering. Roger wanted nothing more than to hug him, but he didn't think he'd have the strength to let go if he did now.

"And I'll grab that shower now – God knows I fucking reek." This time, Freddie accepted his attempt to lighten the mood with a snort.

"That you do, dear," he said, making an exaggerated face of disgust. "Off with you." Roger took his chance and turned on his heel and all but ran to his room.

After the door was locked securely, Roger quickly made his way over to the bed. He sat down, pulling down his sock with trepidation. He looked down at Freddie's unmistakable chicken scratch, forever inked on his skin and deeper still.

Looked down at his second soulmark.

Freddie was his soulmate. Like Brian. Like too quiet nights when he was four, too empty halls when he was seven, too loud voices when he was ten, and thirteen, and sixteen.

But that wouldn't, couldn't happen to their little family. He would never allow to happen to Brian, to Freddie, to himself, what happened to mother and father. Refused to drag John down into this mess. Soulmates were _worthless_ , it was _people_ that should choose each other. Not some bullshit match made in heaven, or wherever. He refused to let them all crash and burn because fate decided to fuck them over. It would be fine. It didn't matter. It changed nothing.

He rubbed over his ankle, a twisted smile appearing on his face.

_'Liar - you're lying to me'_

Everything was fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme hear your thoughts, kids. 
> 
> All the love to you all in these trying times! ♥


End file.
